What I'm Fighting For
by silenthero27
Summary: What are your motivations to engage in an endless battle? Is it a cause or ideal that moved you to action? Mortred will find her own in an unforgettable way. (OneShot)


What I'm Fighting for

by silenthero

This story was inspired by a magnificent fanfiction in PlayDota. It was very long time ago and I forgot its title and its author. But a review from my previous story sparked my memory to create my own version of the said fanfic.

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Disclaimer: The story proper was inspired by the original author. I gave him a huge shout-out whoever you are! Ahem, DotA 2 belongs to Valve and to the honorable IceFrog. :/

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It was night, and the feeling of dread crept to the ranks of the Dire. Darkness was always looked as a source of evil, but as irony seems to permit, the Dire this time cowered to their bases, intently guarding for anyone who might attack at any moment. To anyone who was born out of war, the rustling of the leaves meant the marching of a silent army ready to strike. The blow of the wind carried its tell-tale sign of enemies abounding everywhere.

Not all of the Dire's heroes were afraid of the dark. As some of the Dire had been borne out of the darkness, they had utilized it to their own ends with skill and deadly accuracy, whose trees and rocks would help them to hide, as if accepting them into a familiar embrace. One such warrior was gliding through. Her armor bore the strength of metal and her movements the grace of wind. Her skin blends, almost disappearing, into the background. Only the sliver of her weapon was the first and the last seen by any unfortunate victim who was listed to her enigmatic organization. She was Mortred, the Phantom Assassin.

"Why do I have to do this?" she grumbled, as she tracked an entity that bores darkness as its own. Its tracks were shadows like a trail left by a snail. The unique shadow, though, greatly slows anyone who touches it making it the more difficult to follow. But the assassin moved with assured grace and precision without any compromise in its haste.

She managed to come to its source moments later; it was a small clearing of shrubs and small trees. It would have been a normal terrain if only of its ghastly, ethereal shadows murking from each spots, acting like sticky mud. Though the darkness nullifies any light Mortred wasn't bothered by it. She was so accustomed to the shadows that it neither blurred her vision nor slowed her stride. From its center an oxymoronically "glowing darkness" was standing in all its horror. Mortred managed to get close to this entity and heard it was muttering something. In much closer inspection one would seem it was crying in an inaudible sound.

The glowing darkness was the dreaded Spectre, the Mercurial. No one knew where Spectre came from or even knew what she was. Her head was elongated, terminated by two tendrils to its back and two slits where her eyes would have been. Her body oozed with darkness so foul it materialized into a mystical mud of sorts. Distortions and black mists surrounded the entity outlining her with dark purple. She wields a wickedly sharp large moon blade as wide as she was. But with all the horrifying characteristics, her voice was the one whom made her so unique. She spoke in an eerie, demented fashion - speaking with words that seemingly run with each other. As such, she was driven to be alone rather than to converse with others.

Her appearance was one of the reasons why most of the Dire heroes shunned her; no one wants to dirtied themselves of its black mists. Even the Butcher, whose stench most foul, wouldn't want his beloved cleaver to be drenched by black mud. And so, by popular demand, Spectre was moved to a clearing where only she and her foul darkness resided. She had shortly become Mortred's companion because of their shared experience regarding their peers. The Dire had not taken well to someone who belonged to the Shadow Veil such as herself. Rumors circulated this organization would kill anyone listed in their kill lists with no apparent reason whatsoever, be it Dire or Radiant. Though Mortred had chosen the Dire for her cause, her quiet brutal outperforming of them in the battlefield hardly made them thaw. Both heroes were shunned and it was this way that the two of them became friends, seizing other's experience to be a connection of understanding.

Since then, these shunned partners became a very effective duo, ending the illustrious career of many of the Radiant's heroes. A thrown dagger from the woods spelled doom to anyone finding its mark, be it from Mortred or Spectre. And to be alone in the woods spells death, the last seen was their moon blades bearing down their split heads.

Mortred took few steps towards her friend, careful to avoid the black splotches from the ground, and snapped her fingers thrice. Spectre quickly sensed Mortred's presence given the sound was their customary way of greeting each other and turned around.

"What is it that the assassin wants?" Spectre spoke. Her words were like spoken by an unsychronized audience. Others have thought she has a speech impediment. Only one needs to listen intently what she truly said. Mortred was already accustomed the way her friend talk.

"Something is troubling you." Mortred started without answering Spectre's question as well as dismissing her true intention. Her original objective was to call Spectre out of her lair to prepare for another battle. You are her friend, are you not? Necrolyte had told her. Fetch your friend for we go to war a moment too soon. "What is it?"

Spectre stretched out her hand and revealed something like a scroll. It was brilliantly radiant, even against Spectre's dark influence. "The Power from Above sent another message. It looks like I am in a predicament. It says I'm becoming more powerful and therefore should refrain being one to avoid disrupting the world's equilibrium."

Mortred took the scroll from her friend and was shocked of its content. The contents were strikingly blunt: Mercurial was to be barred from using her Spectral dagger for the next battle. Thus it had been ordained by the master of their world, whose name she didn't even know.

"Pesky deity." Spectre said angrily. "I admit I am not from this realm but did I do something wrong?" Her tone was like of a child, innocence dripping from her words.

"Nothing," the assassin replied. "You did everything right - that is why."

Mortred wasn't an intellectual person who dabbled with philosophy or even magic. But she had inferred from the workings of this world there was somebody actively in charge in the battles they fought. And add another horrifying revelation; it was for the being's entertainment. As much as deities and gods were concerned who simply mind their own business, this one was very obsessed in making balance between the Radiant and Dire - and if there was a side - indeed, any particular hero - who was too powerful or inversely too weak, he would give them some changes to keep the perfect balance of the convoluted world they played in. It was a game, she thought, in which even the greatest of heroes are nothing but a pawn. And in all games, it had to be fair.

Bastard.

Spectre glowered even more as her weapon begun to pulse a crimson purple. "Why keep up this charade?" She took the scroll back and quickly crumpled it. "Is it too much to ask? All I ever wanted was to go home."

The thought of separating from where you belong was truly a sentiment they both shared. Mortred didn't know where she originally came from. Her parents, her relatives, all of it were vague. She was brought to the Phantom Veil to endure being an assassin whose goal she didn't even know. Now the unfairness of the situation begun to rage within her. All of them, in one point, found themselves in this world with no logical explanation. She quickly thought of their "god" who could have help them renew their former lives, but instead pitted them against each other to the death... over and over and over again.

Why am I doing this?

"We can no more choose not to fight than can they – even if we were to be treated as pawns of a game." Mortred said placidly.

Spectre gave her a nod and replied. "Truly, it is. But if this is the price to go home, any hardship we face can be surmounted. As long as I am still in this realm I will be with you."

Mortred smiled, touched by her friend's words. "Thank you. I will be at your side also. It is my duty, and besides, you need someone to look after you while you are finding a way to return to your realm." Then something happened that took Mortred by surprise.

Spectre's dark glow grew dim and was replaced by a maiden whose silhouette showed a beautiful visage. Long slick hair and a slender body fitted with robes but all of it was beyond seeing because of dark mists. "Thank you, Mortred..." Spectre slowly said with such clarity and its voice a melodious tone of an angel. Mortred saw there was a glint of smile from this woman's face. In a split second, Spectre's form shook uncontrollably and with a burst of black mists she reverted back to her ghastly form. She knelt down, apparently exhausted.

Mortred was beyond words. Clearly, Spectre's reversion to her true self just to thank her taxed her too much. This world is truly making her suffer.

This is why I'm doing this, she thought.

Not for a god to laugh. Not for some logical reason or cause. Not for someone to play, watch and be entertained. What are they but meaningless smoke? I know you can see me now, you sorry lot of an individual, and much good it may do you. I know why I'm doing this.

I stay and fight for a friend. One for staying true was a torture, and showing it to me all the same.

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Review are appreciated. ^^


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